The Life of Hunting
by Annette Sommer
Summary: Dean and Sam have been reincarnated, and they are finishing up their senior year of high school. That is, until Castiel drops in and tells them that they are being hunted down! Suddenly, Dean and Sam are tossed into the life of hunting, and must remember their past life if they are to survive. Along the way, Dean must also remember who Castiel is-and exactly what he meant to him.
1. Chapter 0

Dean leaned back in his seat as the teacher droned on about atoms and molecules. It was his senior year of high school, so Dean was pretty sure that meant he could slack off as much as he wanted to. Considering that he was going to be Salutatorian of his class, he figured getting an A- for once wouldn't kill him.

"Hey, Dean," a voice from behind him whispered. Dean turned around and saw a brown haired boy looking at him. His black shirt and skinny jeans were opposite from Dean's own attire: a button up conservative shirt with brown slacks. Even the guy's hair was long compared to Dean's modest short hair. Playfully Dean replied with a smirk "You need a haircut Sam."

The other rolled his eyes defensively, "Shut up man. I need to ask you something."

Dean nodded, "Ask away."

Hesitantly, Sam went on, "Do you believe in ghost dude?"

Raising his eyebrows, Dean replied, "Sure. I also believe in the tooth fairy and Santa Clause."

"I'm being 100 percent serious Dean!" Sam replied loudly.

The teacher stopped his lecture and looked back at the two, "And once again we have the Winchester cousins interrupting our class! Is there something you would like to share?"

Sam quickly turned around as Dean responded, "No, we're just talking about ghost Mr. K. Please go on about Shakespeare."

"You really are a piece of work Mr. Winchester. Now leave my classroom and head to the counselors office."

Shrugging, Dean stood up and sauntered out of the room. As he walked down the white walled hallway, Dean chuckled to himself. So Sam thought ghosts were real, that was a new one. Admittedly his cousin had always been a bit suspicious of the world around him. Sam always claimed he remembered crazy things like monsters. In fact, in the third grade he had to go to counseling for a year because he wouldn't stop telling Dean that his mom was someone else. When his mother died unexpectedly in a car crash, Sam had oddly become much better. He moved in with Dean and his folks, and was alright from that point on.

Lost in his thoughts, Dean nearly missed the entrance to the counselor's office. Hesitantly Dean stared at the door. The last time he had been there, the counselor had chewed his ass out. Then again, if he bailed his teacher was sure to give him detention. With a sigh the brown haired teenager reluctantly opened the door and signed in with the receptionist.

"In trouble again Dean?" the blond haired woman asked.

Dean replied with a smile, "You betcha. It's hard being a misunderstood genius."

The woman suppressed her smile, and informed Dean that he should head to the first office on the left. "Actually," she said pleasantly, "We just got a new counselor today. He's well…" She looked up at Dean as her face turned pink, "Well he's very polite."

After nodding awkwardly to the receptionist, Dean headed down the hall. It was odd that Mr. Hardy, his previous counselor, was not seeing him. He had been here two days ago, when Dean had been caught smoking in the bathroom.

When Dean came to the first office on the left, Mr. Hardy's usual room, he saw that his name was no longer posted there. Instead, there was an ominous blank space. Uncertain, he knocked loudly.

A deep voice replied from the other side, "Come in."

Dean pushed open the door and looked at the man who stood as he came in. He was behind a desk, his hair was dark brown, and his grey-green eyes stared at Dean seriously. What surprised Dean the most was the peculiar tan trench coat the man was wearing. For some reason, Dean felt as if he had seen the jacket from somewhere. It was as if he knew the person who wore it, but he had no idea who this man was.

"Dean" the man said as if out of breath.

Dean replied, "Yeah that's me. Nice to meet you Mr..?"

The man looked at him sadly, "I am Castiel. That is what I am known by."

Dean shrugged, and sat down on the cushioned red seat that was positioned in front of the desk. So this counselor was one of those hip teachers who went by first names. That was cute.

"Oh, okay Castiel. Well, can you just slap me on the hand now so I can head to lunch?"

Looking extremely confused, Castiel replied, "I don't think I should slap you on the hand. I believe that is inappropriate for educators to do to students."

Dean was silent for a moment as he stared at the man. Was this guy being serious? There was no way he was for real. But, telling from the utterly serious looking on his face, Dean could tell he was 100 percent clueless. "It's a figure of speech," he explained trying not to laugh, "I mean like, just tell me what a hindrance to society I'm being so I can leave."

Castiel nodded, "That makes more sense. However," he paused, "I am here to tell you something else."

On the other's face, Dean detected a trace of pain. Oddly enough, Dean felt responsible for it. He felt as if he should get up and pat the man on the back or something. Of course, he wouldn't damn well do that. First of all, he had no idea who this guy was. Secondly, Dean really didn't want his counselor to think had had the hots for him, no matter how attractive and snazzy looking said counselor was.

As Dean had an inner battle with his budding attraction to this strange man, Castiel interrupted his thoughts, "Dean, I am unsure how to explain this without sending you into shock. So, um, I am an Angel of the Lord. Inside you is the spirit of someone I once held very dear. And the King of Hell is trying to find you. You are in grave danger. Sam is as well."

Usually, Dean was a pretty open guy. He believed in getting everything out on the table as soon it was possible. However, this guy had packed so much into one breath that Dean was hardly sure where to start. "So," he began slowly, "You think you're an Angel. Okay, that's cool."

Castiel nodded, "Good you believe me."

As he was about to inform the other that he actually thought he was ten shades of crazy, a piercing sound rang through Dean's head. He clutched his head and sank into the ground, and then the window in front of him shattered open. Castiel was yelling something about closing his eyes, but Dean had already done so because of the intense ache that was running through his body.

"They didn't want me to tell you," He heard Castiel say, "But there was no way I could ignore you, Dean."

With that, the angel disappeared and the sound ended. Slowly, Dean looked around the room at the broken glass and drifting sheets of paper. All the furniture in the room had been turned and tossed. If it wasn't for the pain shooting out of his arm, Dean would think he'd have entirely lost it. But, it seemed like the fact of the matter was that he had just met an angel. "Well I'll be damned" Dean said slowly, "I guess ghost might be real after all then." Unable to remain conscious, Dean closed his eyes once again and fell to the ground.

* * *

**Please forgive any grammar/spelling errors. I wrote this at 4 in the morning, and am horrible at editing. However, I plan to go through this when I can to make edits and what not. I just wanted to post what I had so far. Also, this story will contain quite a bit of Destiel scenes (just in case that isn't your cup of tea).**** Anyways, thanks for reading. Feel free to let me know what you think~**


	2. Chapter 1

His head was still pounding when Dean awoke. Rising slowly, he opened his eyes to see the placid walls of the nurse's office surrounding him. It smelt like anesthetic and peppermints, causing Dean's stomach to turn uncomfortably. The last two things that the teenager could remember was the unbearable sound that had been drumming through his ears and the angel's familiar figure just before he had disappeared.

"Dean, finally you're awake. I was starting to think you'd gotten a concussion," said a voice to Dean's left. Pushing himself up, Dean looked to his side and saw Sam sitting anxiously. His hazel eyes were opened widely, and his mouth was in a frown.

Rubbing his hands over his face, Dean replied, "What do you mean finally? How long have I been out?"

"5th period just ended so about half an hour. Mr. Hardy said when you were leaving his office, you slipped and hit your head on the door frame or something" Sam shrugged and continued teasingly, "I'm just glad I don't have to take you to the hospital that would have been hassle."

"Bitch" Dean said without thinking. Sam raised his eyebrows curiously, studying Dean as if he had done something noteworthy. Just as Dean was about to ask if Sam was done checking him out, Sam's word repeated in Dean's head: _Mr. Hardy said_…

"Mr. Hardy quit," Dean said slowly, "The new counselor's name is Castiel."

If calling Sam a bitch had made him incredulous, saying Castiel's name had utterly baffled him. "No, Mr. Hardy is here Dean. He helped carry you over here."

Shaking his head, Dean set his feet on the floor and stood up. "I know who I was talking to Sam, and it wasn't Mr. Hardy! It was Castiel, and he tore the room apart! Or at least, some other angels did."

Just as Dean was about to lead Sam to the counselors room to prove his point, a tall black haired man walked into the room. His unruly stubble and clean cut button up shirt were his trademarks: there was Mr. Hardy. Mr. Hardy, who was supposed to be long gone. Who was not all an angel of the lord, at least for all Dean knew.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" he asked, "You sure scared the hell out of me, hitting your head like that!"

Unable to respond, Dean looked away from the man and into his cousin's eyes. They gave away nothing except concern. "I'm okay," Dean replied slowly, "I think."

* * *

The afternoon classes flew by quickly. Dean was caught off guard when the final bell rag, indicating that he could get the hell off of campus. After leaving the nurses office, all he had been able to think about was what had happened. Or, to put it more accurately, what hadn't happened. Yet, Dean was not buying it. He knew exactly what had happened, no matter how irrational it seemed. And he would get to the bottom of it. He would find Castiel, and figure out what he had meant when he had said that Sam and he were in danger.

"Are you coming, or are you just going to sit there?" a voice inquired.

Looking up, Dean spotted a familiar blond haired girl standing in front of his desk, "I don't know, I sort of like sitting here Jo."

Rolling her eyes, Jo replied, "You smart ass. Do you want a ride home, or not?"

After making a few more remarks and having Jo threaten to leave him there, Dean sheepishly followed the girl out of the building and to her car. Jo lived the next door over from Dean and Sam, and had been friends with them since as far back as he could remember. She seemed as tough as they come, but Dean knew better. She had lost her parents when she was eight years old. They had been murdered in their sleep, and Jo had found them the next morning.

Spotting that Dean had been staring at her, Jo snapped "What's up? Do I have something on my face or something?"

"Nope," Dean replied casually, "A lot has been on my mind lately."

"I'll bite," Jo said, "What's been on your mind Dean? Have you finally come to terms with your crush on Dr. Sexy?"

"Okay first of all, if someone claims that they're not into Dr. Sexy, they're lying. Secondly, no, that's not what's been on my mind." Taking a breath, Dean continued, "I just met someone today, well I think I met him. And supposedly he knew me, or who I use to be. I have no idea who I use to be though? The funny thing is, when I saw him, I don't know. Something felt, different."

Jo had been silent for Dean's explanation, and remained so as she took everything in. Finally, as the car slowed and down in front of Dean's house, she commented, "Sounds like Sam wasn't lying when he said you'd hit your head hard."

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Dean opened the door and began to walk off, "Gee, glad to know I can count on your for sound advice Jo."

"Dean," Jo called out as he headed towards his house.

Dean turned around, "What?"

With small smile, she replied, "Don't try too hard to remember who you were to this guy. There's probably a reason you forgot."

Before Dean could comment Jo drove off. She was probably right, he thought as he neared his front door. If, by some chance, Castiel was real and had not been lying, Dean felt as if he would rather not remember. The way the angel had looked at him had been happiness mixed with something Dean could best describe as pain. If his soul or whatever had once known Castiel, well that person was long gone.

As he opened the door, Dean looked through and saw his darkly clothed cousin sitting on the couch in their living room. "I thought you were at your book club thing," he said as he threw his backpack down and plopped down next to Sam.

"It got cancelled," Sam replied as he flipped through the channels, "Do you still think our counselors name is Cas?"

Dean retorted, "It's Castiel, and yes I do. I have no idea in hell how the room got cleaned up, but I know what I saw Sam."

"Alright, so let's say this happened," Sam said glancing towards Dean, "Why would we be in danger?"

"Maybe we're a threat to the King of Hell, I don't know dude. That's what he said though."

Scoffing, Sam turned off the TV, "So this morning you thought I was crazy for mentioning ghost, but now you think angels and demons are real and conspiring to get us? No offense Dean, but if you keep talking about this, your parents are going to start thinking that you caught my crazy."

Dean rolled his eyes, and Sam left. It seemed like the other either did not believe him, or was being a bitch about Dean making fun of him earlier. Whatever the case, Dean himself was beginning to doubt what had happened. In fact, his head still hurt from being hit earlier.

Just as Dean was convincing himself that he probably had imagined it all, a voice to his left called out, "It happened Dean."

Jumping up in surprise, the teenager looked down at the scruffy angel. The other looked as if he had just been in an outright beating: his hair was tousled and there was bruises and blood covering his uncovered skin. "What? Did I fall asleep?"

Castiel shook his head, "No, it's more like you're in a trance like state. I'm speaking to you through your thoughts."

"Umm, okay," Dean shook his head, "Then what the hell happened earlier?! You sort of just disappeared after dropping a bombshell on me. You know, you said something about knowing my soul and how the King of Hell is after me. Does that ring a bell?"

"No, it doesn't ring any bells," he replied, "But I do remember. I was going to explain more fully, but angels were getting close to finding my precise location. Even now I'm not safe yet."

"Look" Dean said in frustration, "I really don't have any idea who you are or what you're talking about. So you say you are an angel, okay that's great. But whatever you have going on, I don't want any part of it. So please, just leave me alone."

The angel rose from the couch, reaching a hand out as if to touch the other. However, before his hand was placed on Dean's shoulder, Castiel stopped short and looked away, "I'm so sorry Dean. You were happy here, but-"

"But nothing." Dean interrupted, "I'm going to stay happy, alright? I don't want to be a part of whatever you're talking about."

Ignoring his protests, Castiel commented, "You really do look exactly like you did before. You sound a bit different, but you're still the same."

Dean was about to tell the angel that he needed to leave, but before he could the other had disappeared like before. Weakly, Dean fell onto the couch again and dropped his face into his palms. He still had so many questions left for Castiel. There was fear beginning to set in, and he wanted to know why. Dean had no idea why he was so animate about staying away from Castiel's world. Most guys would jump at the chance for something more than the mundaneness of high school. But, for some reason, that was all Dean wanted. He only wanted a lasting normality without complications or hurt.


	3. Chapter 2

Shifting in the passenger's seat of the truck, Dean looked around at the trash that littered the floor. Fast food bags and water bottles rested at his feet, slightly making their way up to his knees. Usually, Sam's tendency to have a messy car did not really bother Dean, but the previous night's lack of sleep was already irritating him. Picking up some of the trash, Dean threw it to the back seat. Sam ignored Dean's action, and drove in silence.

Clearing his throat, Dean commented pointedly "Sam, you should work on cleaning this out."

Blinking through his eyeliner, the other shrugged as he came to a stop sign, "I've been busy Dean."

After Dean had managed to get a majority of the trash to the back, he replied, "Busy with what? It's our senior year. You're first in our class. I think you can go ahead and take a break for once."

The brown haired boy hesitated before glancing again to his side. By the tightening of Sam's grip on the steering wheel, Dean could tell that he was trying to avoid answering the question. There were only two times when Sam looked nervous: right before a test and right before he was about to lie.

Interrupting the other's silence, Dean said a frown, "Before you outright lie to me Sammy, stop. Since yesterday, I've experienced enough crazy to believe you. So just tell me the truth."

Sam's round eyes seemed to brighten up. With a new found energy he began "Well remember how I asked you about ghosts yesterday?" Dean nodded slowly, and the other went on, "Well I've been hunting a ghost. At least, I think it's a ghost, but I'm starting to doubt that."

The truck stopped as Sam parked outside of their school. Turning off the engine, his cousin turned towards him expectantly, as if Dean should know something about ghosts and how to hunt them. In a way, Dean felt as if he did know how to hunt ghosts. It seemed like something that was easy and natural. However, no matter how hard he tried to figure it out, nothing was coming to him. Dean was your typical high school teenager. He barely even believed in ghosts, nonetheless how to hunt them.

Realizing that Dean had nothing to offer, Sam's eager composure faltered. "I guess you don't remember yet."

"Remember what?" Dean asked in confusion.

Instead of answering, Sam zipped up his dark jacket and escaped out of the truck. He headed to the trunk of the grey truck, ignoring Dean's baffled expression. Angrily, Dean opened his door and followed the other. He stopped with his arms crossed, looking up at his younger cousin. As Sam continued to rummage through the trunk Dean asked again "Remember what Sam?"

The other let out an exasperated sigh, before slinging his backpack over his shoulder. He was about to walk off in the direction of the band hall, but Dean cut in front of him.

"Really Dean?" Sam said, finally looking the other in the eyes.

Dean nodded his head but did not budge from in front of the other, "Yes really Sam. You've been saying a lot of weird cryptic stuff lately, and it isn't your usual weird cryptic stuff. Just spit it out already."

Sam's mouth fell into a flat line, and Dean knew he would not be getting an answer. Evidently his cousin could not tell the truth twice in one day. Biting his bottom lip, Dean turned away from Sam, "Okay, don't tell me. Have fun with your ghosts, sunshine." With that, he began to walk off towards his right. The giant brick building he was heading towards had the school's mascot, a polar bear, painted on the front roaring. Usually, Dean smiled with he saw the school gym. It was his second home since he had joined the wrestling team his freshman year. However, not even the prospect of first period athletics could make him forget. Dean could feel his face flushing red in a mixture of anger and annoyance, and it was not wearing off anytime soon.

At least, that was what he assumed until he walked through the gym entrance. Stopping dead in his tracks, Dean stared ahead. Castiel was standing against the wall to his left, and staring at the cell phone in his hands intently. He was dressed as stereotypically as possible: he had a Nike shirt, a red band around his forehead, basketball shorts, and a shiny whistle hanging around his neck. If Dean wasn't already so miffed, he would definitely muse over how nice Castiel looked in athletic wear.

Trying to calm the various emotions brewing in his head, that had so quickly changed from anger to attraction, Dean hurried towards the angel. "Exactly what," he began stopping in front of the other and crossing his arms, "Do you think you're doing here?"

Castiel looked up from his phone, "Well I was playing a game with angry animals in it."

Doing his best not to let out a chuckle, Dean gestured towards Castiel's clothes, "No, I mean why are you dressed like you're going to go run a marathon?"

The other turned his head in confusion, "I'm not going to run Dean, I am a physical education instructor. I came to watch over you."

As Dean was about to explain to Castiel that he really did not need to watch over him, and that actually he should probably head back to heaven or wherever the hell he was from, a group of young men began to file into the gym from the locker room. They glanced curiously towards Dean and Castiel, and began to walk towards them.

"Can I talk with you really quick, in private Cass?" Dean said, glancing towards his nearing teammates. It was one thing to let Sam know about the peculiar on goings of the previous day, but Dean doubted that his teammates would be as accepting of the angel.

Without waiting for a reply, Dean lightly grabbed the man's arm and pulled him towards the open door of the coach's office, which lay near the gym's entrance. Once they were both inside, Dean shut the door quickly and turned towards the other. "You need to leave me alone," he said looking in the other in the eye.

The angel looked away, unable to hold Dean's gaze, "I can't leave you alone. If I leave you alone, they will find you."

"So let them find me then!" Dean snapped, "Whoever they are, let them find me! I don't really care."

The other looked up and raised his voice to Dean's surprise, "Even in this life, you are just as stubborn and willing to die! Do you not understand that Crowley wants your soul? He wants to send you to hell Dean and you are sitting here defenseless and ignorant."

Dean let out a humorless laugh, "Oh okay. So what do you want me to do then Cass? Because even though I'm defenseless and ignorant, I'll be damned if I'm stupid. You're not here only to watch over me. I could tell that from the start."

The angel's eyes softened and he seemed as if he would not reply. However, in the same firm voice he responded, "You need to become a hunter Dean. You need to be able to defend yourself."

Those words baffled Dean. However, they were not confusing because they did not make sense. Rather, they were confusing because of how sweaty his hands were getting. He heart had begun racing, and he was at a loss of breath. Carefully, the young man put a hand on the desk in the office, and raised his other to his forehead. There was something at the very edge of his memory. Something burning and terrifying. A fire. Screaming. A woman with blond hair and a sweet voice who was killed violently, and heartbreakingly.

Dean had been so consumed by this vague memory, that he had not noticed the angel near him. A gentle hand was placed on his back, and another was grabbing onto Dean's elbow to steady him. "Are you alright?" a voice asked him.

Dean replied with another question, "Sam remembers it all already, doesn't he?"

"Yes," Castiel replied, still holding onto the other, "He remembered it quite some time ago. He has already started hunting again."

"Well I'll be damned," Dean said, straightening up. Castiel's hand fell from his back as Dean placed his hand over the other one on his elbow. He held his handover Castiel's for a moment feeling the familiar warmth. Dean had felt this hand before, he knew that now. That hand was one he had trusted with his life. Suddenly, Dean grabbed the other's hand and pushed it off him. "I don't care who I was before or what happened," Dean lied smoothly, "I won't be a hunter."

He did not look at Castiel, but instead walked out of the office and then out of the gym. As he headed through the school parking lot, footsteps followed behind him. Angrily, Dean stopped and turned around, "I already told you I don't want to hunt!"

The person in front of him stopped. Telling from the fact that he was significantly shorter than Dean, and also that he seemed pretty shocked at Dean's outburst, Dean quickly realized the angel had not followed him. "Alright, that's cool," Kevin said holding his hands teasingly, "We could always go camping or something, whatever."

Dean forced a smile, "With you Tran? I don't think so." Dean began to walk at a slower place forward and the other followed him. Kevin was a sophomore and like a younger brother to Dean. He had gotten bullied quite a bit until joining the wrestling team and meeting Dean. Since then, they had had each other's backs.

"So," Kevin said as he bit his nails, "You and the temporary coach didn't seem to be hitting it off that well."

Dean glanced to his side at Kevin's small figure and then shrugged, "How do you feel about skipping school today?"

Kevin rolled his eyes, "You know your parents and mine would kill us if we skipped any more of our classes. Just come back to practice. We'll give the new coach hell."

Ignoring Kevin's comments Dean stopped at Sam's grey truck and pulled a pair of keys out of his pocket. He waved them in front of Kevin's impressed face, "Are you positive you aren't up for skipping? I took Sammy's keys when he wasn't paying attention."

Kevin smiled, and headed over the passenger's side, "You're a really horrible influence, you know that?"

Although Dean had a lot to think about, he preferred to forget it. The anger and doubt were still there, and he knew they would not go away for a while. His cousin had been lying to him for who knows long. As Dean reached to unlock the card door, he felt the lingering warmth of the angels hand over his. He could not forget how caring it had felt. Castiel cared about him, and it scared Dean to think about what that meant. So instead, he would hang out with Kevin and try to forget as much as possible. Remembering anymore of who he was, well from what he had remembered so far, would not be something to look forward to. "Yeah," Dean said to himself more than the other, "I know."


End file.
